WHERE'S MOLLY?
by Kuiakaituhi
Summary: Ever since we found out Molly was not going to be around during Series 3 we worried whether Mr Grounds might leave out our favourite captain of the legendary low-slung combats. We wonder what has happened to Molly. Is she away doing important stuff before returning to (hopefully) Series 4? A challenge to you authors of our 300 archive. What do you think? Where's Molly?
1. Chapter 1

WHERE'S MOLLY?

A Fan Fiction Puzzle and a Challenge

 _Ever since we all found out that LT was not taking her character, Molly, through into the new series there has been heaps of angst about her impending absence, and horror of horrors, fear that Charles would disappear, too. Thank you, Tony Grounds and the BBC, for saving him and all the rest of us obsessive fans of the Bossman._

 _We are not sure about how you can have_ _ **him**_ _there without_ _ **her.**_ _We are also apprehensive about the "new"_ _ **her.**_ _We are wondering whether you have LT "on ice" for a possible third series? Anyhow I thought I might ask other, multi-talented fan fiction writers of our 300+stories how they imagine you might deal with the side-lining or permanent exit of Molly from the story we all love._

 _So here is one possibility. I challenge all you other amazing writers to write and post your solution to this Where's Molly mystery. It will be interesting, in due course to see who, if any of us, are even close to the ingenious Mr Grounds._

"James! James! Phone call for you." The clipped accent reminded her so much of that other voice, the one she was starting to miss already. Right on time, just an hour before take-off for him. Just as he'd promised. No matter how, she would be the last person he talked to before he got on the plane taking him to Africa. It was a "thing" with them now, to be the last contact before either of them started something new. Molly recalled the first time they had kissed, gently and with such wonder at the taste of each other's lips.

"I want you to be the last thing I see," he had told her and she had replied in their code word, "Ditto." This, they realised, was where they had been headed ever since they first saw each other on the tarmac at Brize Norton over two years ago

She raced across the crowded canteen and snatched the phone, aware that her heart was thumping in her chest and her palms were sticky with nervous sweat. Why did that always happen to her when she was stressed or anxious, her hands sweaty and her breathing shallow, too fast, sometimes thready? Her new Boss had noticed that combination of stress reactions and had suggested she needed to get it in hand, pretty damn quick. Another bloody numpty with a posh boy voice. Fuck, she was surrounded by posh boys every day, you would have thought she'd be used to it by now, after a year of being Molly James, wife of Major James, eldest child of posh people from Royal Crescent, Bath.

And that they might be a bit less snobbish about her Cockney twang. Ah, fuck them, she thought, they don't know nothin' about me. Let them wait to find out how "a little tart" like me, a description she'd overheard as she'd walked past a knot of them just the other day, ended up in this most unexpected place.

"Hi, my darling." She could just hear the catch in that particular posh boy voice, the one that still made her wobbly in the knees." I'm looking out the window as the lads are making a half arsed effort at getting themselves sorted…or pretending to…for a photo, just like the one we had when you snickered at me on the tarmac. AND gave me the eye, you cheeky cow. Look at the trouble you got me into after that!"

"It weren't my fault! You couldn't keep your eyes off me, could you? And it weren't too long before you couldn't keep your hands off me, neither." She retorted in mock indignation.

"I know where I'd like my hands to be right now. Are you wearing those new lacy white knickers I left for you this morning before you left for work?"

"Don't, Charles, that's not fair to get me all worked up when I'm in my bloody fatigues and boots, getting ready to go out in the bleedin' mud and sleet with this bunch of fucking Ruperts. You need to be careful how your uniform looks in the front, too. Them Under Fives… Shit, I forgot they're under Sevensnow… will give you hell if they can spot a bulge in the front of that flash new gear with the Major stuff all over your shirt."

"You're right, Molls. It's just me refusing to think about doing without you for so long while you're here and I'm over there. Three months till I get leave to come home, can't think what I'll do without you at night."

"Just so long as whatever you do doesn't involve that Lane bird whose doin' MY job now. I'll bloody kill you and her and all them squaddies for letting it happen if you so much as look at her under them bloody sexy eyelashes of yours!"

"I told you, Molly, I can't even see her or any other woman. There's only you now, forever. You know how we are together, just perfect. We fit together and there's nothing I would do to risk losing you. Molly James, I love you so much," he murmured. "And it looks like I'm needed, my love. That rabble is still a bunch of bloody cockwombles, the new Captain has just got them sorted. I'd better go and give them the usual lecture from the Major so he can get the photo over with and get them on board."

Molly felt two tears run slowly down her cheeks. One of the Ruperts nearby elbowed another and pointed the tears out, with an exaggerated imitation of a weeping woman

"What are you, girlie?" he mocked. "Got some bad news? Can't hack it already? Crying won't work around here, you know." She could see the senior officer, their major, prick his ears up as the cruel remarks rang out across the room. Without any haste, he moved close to them and spoke, first to Molly.

"James, I take it you are saying goodbye to that husband of yours, Major Charles James? He's leading the new deployment going out to Africa tonight, if I remember? Take your time, I know how much it means to me to say my last goodbye to my wife before I head off on a mission. Knowing Charles, I'm sure he feels the same."

The major took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her without a word. Turning to the loudmouth who had been so rude to her, he spoke, almost in conversational tone, but not quite. Molly could hear the steel behind the polite words: she could almost see the shiver run down the other man's spine.

"You and I can wait till James has said goodbye to her very brave husband who's being redeployed at his own request. The man has just been through months of very difficult rehabilitation. Never thought we'd see him on active service again. Bloody marvel, really. Go on, James, finish talking to your man."

"Charles, there's a bit of stuff happening here, but it's OK. I'll write about it to you tonight when I do your first letter. I know you have to go now. I love you, Major Charles James. Only you, forever. Please take care of yourself

"Me, too, Second Lieutenant Molly James". I love you. Don't ever forget that. Be in one spectacular, sexy piece, preferably in the lacy white knickers, when I get back home on leave in three months."

"Charles…one last thing. When you open your Bergen tonight, about half way down I've packed two sleeves of Rosabaya. Make it last…think of me when you drink it. And, Charles, come back to me."

Putting the phone back on the hook, Molly turned as the Major spoke again addressing the other man directly in a loud enough voice for the rest of the men in the room to hear.

"I imagine you got here to Sandhurst in the usual way, soldier? Good education, wealthy parents, Daddy already an officer if I remember correctly? Public school? Oxford? Play Rugby? Rowing? Lots of beautiful, brainless girls who like the look of a man in uniform, especially the red one with all the tassels and braid?" The major was in full flight, gesticulating at the younger man.

"Let me tell you how James got here! She comes from a very different place from you without any of the easy stuff you were born to. Which is all a matter of luck, anyway!" Molly smiled at this knowing how much Charles would agree with and approve of the major's philosophy about, luck, chance.

"James got here because she is simply one of the most courageous soldiers this British Army has seen for many a year. I won't embarrass her by telling her the story, you can find it easily enough in our Library and in Army newspapers.

James was awarded the Military Cross for valour before she was twenty years of age. So that's why the Army can't do without her as an officer. And went after her to train her to be an officer. And we bent the rules to make that happen. And we will not tolerate her being spoken to in the disrespectful and ignorant way you did. She's here for forty four weeks' hard work just like the rest of you."

 _Please review. And it would be interesting if some of you rise to the challenge._


	2. Chapter 2

WHERE _IS_ SHE?

Theory 2

Bloody frustrating, dealing with some of these so-called soldiers. Anyone would think they were raw recruits instead of a platoon of blooded military men who had seen six months active service in Afghanistan before this new deployment to Kenya. Well, most of them had been in Afghan. The problem was that there were some replacements in the platoon, among them one for Smurf of course and a "new" medic instead of their beloved Molly.

It had taken him a while to pick up what was going on with their sniping at one another, the general grumpiness and petty unkindness to the new soldier who had no idea what he had done to deserve their downright meanness. Actually, their bullying, much like a gang of schoolkids in the playground excluding the new boy, was a more accurate description. It was total bullshit.

Tonight he had rarked them up, wearing his best Sternface expression and threatened extra running in full kit AFTER they had done a full day's lifting and unpacking of gear setting up their operation, if they couldn't get their act together, and soon. He'd heard the muttering as he dismissed them and could hear her name, he thought. Something about it being bloody James's fault that she hadn't come back to them at all and they had this new bird to deal with and she was beautiful but tough as nails. Nothing like "their" Molly. He turned sharply on his heel and bellowed,

"Not **your** Molly, soldier." By now he recognised the voice as Mansfield Mike's and remembered that Molly had never been able to do anything wrong in that particular squaddie's opinion. "She doesn't belong to anyone. She's her own person and she can choose to be wherever she likes."

"But where is she, Sir? Me and the lads don't get it that she didn't want to come back to us. It ain't the same without her."

"No, it most certainly is not," Charles silently agreed. It would never again be the same without her, for him. He hated her being away from him. What he was discovering now was that their plan was working very well. That was the plan to keep their relationship very low key until after this deployment and not to tell the squaddies until they were all back in Great Britain. Clearly the penny hadn't dropped, which he found really hard to believe. However…

One of Charles best qualities as an officer was his insight into the "secret life" of his platoon, or more expansively, his battalion now that he was a major. Flexibility of thinking and a willingness to alter the game plan when it comes to managing men in difficult environments often worked well for him. He had won respect from this group of soldiers because he was firm but fair and always had their wellbeing at the forefront of his mind. Gesturing to Mansfield to come closer, Charles asked,

"Why are you guys blaming me for her not being here?"

"We thought you might be funny about bein' around a girl who saved your life, Sir, sort of embarrassed. You would always be reminded about that day on the bridge in Afghan. So we thought you could of asked for someone else. And sent her somewhere else."

"You couldn't be further from the truth, soldier." Mansfield noticed the Major biting his bottom lip and running his hand though his hair: this normally meant that he was deep in thought. "Tell the others, just the ones who were with us in Afghan to meet in the Leisure Centre at 19.00 hours tonight. It seems I do owe you all some explanation."

They had been so careful to leave their options open for a little longer. Charles knew he had met the love of his life in Molly. Some things still worried him, though. Acutely aware of his own failings in his marriage to Rebecca, he wanted above all else that another woman not be hurt by him. Molly was very young, the age gap between them bigger than he would have liked, though he could see that would eventually not matter as they built up time together.

He had focussed most of his attention and energy on his rehabilitation once he realised that he did not have to resign his commission. Major Beck had colluded with him in giving no credence to rumours of a relationship between a commissioned officer and a squaddie. The older man was desperate to keep both "in", so suggested a way forward. Molly was very young and needed to be very sure that marrying Charles was what she wanted; Charles needed to be very brave and let her go for a while. No, kick her out temporarily. If she truly loved him, she would return. A girlfriend? In fact, if Charles agreed and Molly bought into the plan, he could see his way clear to release that other very capable medic, what was her name, Jackie, was it? For company. Both women had done sterling work in Afghan and were bound to be fragged.

Beck had called the three of them to a meeting at Pirbright, and after loud protestations, a number of cockney curses and even an unashamedly manipulative flood of tears, Molly had given in. Jackie watched her dramatic performance in awe, but at the end of the meeting there was a plan. Charles didn't like it much, either. Beck insisted.

Just as soon as he was physically able, Charles would take command of the next large company of soldiers bound for the British Peace Support Team in Kenya. Their duties would not be dissimilar to those the Under Fives performed in Afghanistan. So he was the best person for this new challenge, clearly, to lead again his men in this new theatre.

Molly and he would take very good care not to let any of 2 Section know about them being together. In fact, it would be a very good idea for Molly to get on a plane very shortly. A working holiday? A Kombi van? Lots of summer sun? Lots of laughs? Thousands of miles away? The South Pacific?

Then, after six months when he was back from Africa and she from wherever, then their relationship could happen, just like magic. No questions. No snickering. No accusations of cradle snatching. Molly would have had some growing up time. Charles would have regained his confidence as a leader of men. Beck wouldn't have any egg on his face.

On the way to the Leisure Centre that evening, Charles swung by to see if there was anything for him in the mail he had seen arrive by chopper earlier in the day. There was heaps: two letters addressed in Sam's spidery classroom printing, a parcel from his Mum, probably a fruit cake and socks and several postcards and a letter from Molly, all in a large brown envelope addressed in her Gran's unmistakable scrawl. Gran had a flexible arrangement with the truth and was really excited to be a co-collaborator in the plan by taking care of the mail between them. Turning over the top postcard, he read Molly's brief message and burst out laughing at the doodle she had added to make one face stand out. "Perfect," he thought. "I can use that.

The Afghan 'veterans' were clearly intrigued by the summons to meet Major James at short notice. Mansfield Mike had given no details, just told them to turn up to listen to the Bossman.

"I've picked up that you're all confused and surprised that Dawes isn't with you. What I'm going to tell you know is only for your ears. I know you all well enough to be able to trust you, I think. So, Molly is not with you because she is with me…well not here, right now, but WITH me, if you know what I mean. We are an item, I suppose is the easiest way to say it. And you all know how the Army deals with that…"

If it hadn't been such a profoundly difficult admission to make, he would have laughed out loud at the expressions on their faces. Shock, surprise, then on one or two faces nods of recognition as the hidden meanings of some events in Afghan became clear. The penny was definitely dropping for Dangles and Brains. He could see that.

"I'll pass this postcard around. This is where she is, or at least was two weeks ago when she sent it." The picture showed a very crowded beach, lots of bodies baking , the sea rolling in gently, a lifeguard on a tall seat. Was he watching out for sharks, perhaps? Molly had chosen one minute female body stretched out on the sand and circled it "ME!" she had written underneath. Each of them turned it over and laughed. "Hi, Charles" it read. "DO you know the WHERE'S WALLY? jigsaw puzzles? This is a WHERE'S MOLLY? puzzle.

The card told them all she was at Bondi Beach, in Australia.

"She's coming back to me. When we go home after this lot.


End file.
